


Equilibrium

by phqyd_roar



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - Fandom
Genre: As in one of the parties doubts the consent, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bondage, Bottom Thor (Marvel), But also not as hardcore as these tags sound, CBT, Crying, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hate Sex, Humiliation, King Thor, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, M/M, Power Play, Prince Loki, Sort Of, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 23:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18398150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phqyd_roar/pseuds/phqyd_roar
Summary: Loki loves his brother, which is why he restrains himself from all his venomous desires, to hurt, to break, to cause mischief and make things explode.Thor loves his brother, which is why he never struggles when Loki forces him to his knees.





	Equilibrium

**Author's Note:**

> My recent foray into Thorki has left me confused regarding the dire imbalance of top!Thor vs top!Loki fic. I mean guys - Loki here is literally canonically dying to bring his brother to his knees? And he's so creepy :D What I missing?

When the evil whispers of his heart grows too sibilant to bear, Loki appears silently in the King’s bedchambers and waits, one extra shadow flickering in the candlelight.

Thor walks in all big and buff and golden, trailing his red cape behind him, Mjölnir an afterthought in his hand, yawning. The hammer goes on a side table. His hands come up without too much thought, beginning to unfasten the buckles and clasps that hold his clothing together, motions familiar enough to continue smoothly while his eyes droop and his shoulders slump in fatigue.

Loki stares at his brother, whose features are entirely without guile, softened in the apparent safety of solitude. He stares and he hates him viciously, hates the clear blue of his eyes and the fairness of his hair and every curving golden line of his stupidly perfect form, down to the coarse hairs darkening to auburn as they curl down to his heavily hanging flaccid phallus.

Sometimes this is where Loki leaves, his stupid brother never the wiser.

Not today.

Today when Thor kicks off his last garment and turns to step towards his bathroom, he is nose to nose with a smiling Loki. Thor gives a startled gasp, but he doesn’t back up an inch. His gaze sharpens and his shoulders straighten.

“Good _evening_ , my king,” Loki purrs.

Thor always fights back, though he doesn’t fight very _hard_ , and Mjölnir stays on its table. His muscles flex as he responds to Loki’s lightening fast attacks, until Loki has Thor flat on his face with his arms twisted up behind him. Loki sits snugly straddling his brother’s bare thighs, his magic keeping Thor pinned down while his weight does not.

“Are you waiting for me to cry uncle?” Thor asks, his voice muffled but still light.

“I’ll make you cry worse things than that,” Loki hisses.

Vines sprout from Thor’s marble floor, barbed ones that succeed in making him wince as they loop snugly around his neck, tug his ankles until his legs spread, and keep his wrists firmly fastened at the small of his back. Loki steps back to admire his handiwork while Thor strains against his vines, bringing circlets of crimson droplets to his skin. Loki tries not to think about the three dozen curses he could craft with that.

“Not so mighty now, my king?” He says instead, disdainfully dropping into a conjured chair, kicking out his legs, crossed at the ankle, to rest just against the top of Thor’s head.

“Quite at your mercy, it seems,” Thor says agreeably, straining against his barbed vine to look up at his brother.

Loki quite deliberately presses the sole of his boot against Thor’s handsome, affable face. He is rock hard and all but buzzing with delight, drinking in the picture spread before him: his brother the King of Asgard, naked, bound, and prostate at his feet.

It is not enough. How could it be _nearly_ enough when Loki wants, _oh_ to crush his bones and tear out his organs with his bare hands, snap his pearly teeth one by one and drive a blade into each of those smiling blue eyes until he weeps rivers of blood-

All of sudden Loki cannot bear this image and jumps down, skidding forward on his knees to cup Thor’s scruffy jaw. It is momentarily a great comfort to see Thor’s face whole and unharmed, but in the next instance Loki is annoyed, so he slaps Thor across the face.

Thor laughs, a chuckle which he immediately muffles and apologises for, as though this is all some kind of game and he is having great fun. Well, Loki will certainly rectify that. He lets Thor watch a shiny black whip materialize and fall into his hand, then snaps it through the air experimentally. Thor’s breath stutters.

Loki makes art on his brother’s skin. Always true his strikes fall, raising patterned red lines across his creamy canvas. Like a Jotun, Loki tries not to think. Thor gasps and moans, throwing himself against his restraints until his blood stains the marble.

Loki wants to see him cry. Always he is poking at Thor, even when they were children, ever since they were children. Loki would dig his fingers into Thor’s fresh bruises until his face crumpled with hurt, literally and metaphorically. Little Thor had chased Loki through the halls of the palace, his high young voice raised in indignation, but when he caught him, he never gave Loki quite the beating he was expecting. Always he was forgiven, with grudging half-hearted threats should Loki repeat his mischief again. The Allmother and Allfather were long past judging each brotherly crime, sighing at the inevitability of each new battle.

Loki has spent his entire life waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Still he is the exalted Asgardian prince, though he has long known that he is _not_. His trusting, noble, simple brother daily leaves Loki with his seal and the million types of paperwork the crown involves. _Oh, good Loki, dear Loki, aid me with your clever words while I sit on this fancy chair and try out all those funny things I always wanted to say in Father’s voice, won’t you? Darling brother, save me from my dreadful ignorance and meet with this Vanir dignitary in my steed, won’t you?_

“Ah! Loki!”

Loki is startled from his uncharitable thoughts to find that he has struck his brother too hard, one pink line seeping red across Thor’s rear. Thor is panting, the sound close enough to sobbing to stir Loki’s arousal. Loki bends and puts on a concerned face for - really - only his own benefit as he traces his finger gently along the broken welt and hears Thor wince. His clever fingers dance over Thor’s heated skin, trail down between Thor’s downy thighs, and grasp a velvet iron length which pulses with a smear of pre-ejaculate as Loki closes his hand around it. Thor sighs his name.

Loki draws his hand away and looks at the clear liquid smeared over his hand. He lifts his hand to his mouth and sucks his fingers clean.

“You _slut_.”

Loki draws himself to his full height and without warning kicks Thor between the legs. He had only intended to do it once, but the terrified yelp Thor gives him is too good not to hear again, so Loki kicks the _crown jewels_ repeatedly until Thor is finally crying for him, the way Loki wants.

“Stop it…stop it…” Thor says, his voice thick with tears as Loki sticks his oiled fingers up his brother’s royal ass, stretching the muscle open with practiced ease. He hooks his fingers into Thor’s prostate just to be cheeky.

“Stop? Don’t you love it?” Loki opens up his robes only enough to free his cock and press it into Thor’s hole.

“You bastard…”

“You’re still talking. I must be doing something wrong.”

With this witty line, Loki begins pumping into Thor brutally, his jaw clenched and eyes wide as he puts all his considerable power into screwing his brother past the ability to make speech. Thor does stop talking, barely even makes a sound. If not for the occasional sharp inhale, Loki would wonder if Thor was still breathing. 

For these few minutes, Loki lives in the moment and the world is perfect. He grabs a generous handful of golden hair and loses himself to the slick squeeze of Thor’s muscles. For these moments anything could be true - why, these could be Loki’s bedchambers, and this a faceless attractive fool he has enthralled for an evening’s entertainment. But no, the world is better still when it _is_ his brother spread out for him like a feast. His brother, oh, desperate and begging for Loki’s cock to put him in his place…

Loki comes with a satisfied sigh, riding out the smooth glide of euphoria until he stills inside Thor’s sheath, his mind blissfully at peace.

“Well. Was it good for you too?”

Thor gives him a tense keen and lifts his hips, inviting Loki to palm at the thick plush length that once again swelled against his belly.

“Loki…please, touch me.”

Loki hums thoughtfully and keeps his hand curved around Thor’s length long enough for Thor to hump against him a few times and moan with unmistakable desire.

“Does that seem like something I would do?” He says rhetorically, stands up and dusts off his robes while walking the long way around Thor’s prone form.

“Loki. Loki! Untie me, you brute,” Thor calls after him.

Loki ignores him, walks out of the door with his spine straight. Thor certainly cannot see the tears pool and overflow Loki’s eyes. Once Loki is out of sight, Thor will summon Mjölnir to him and break the magic vines. It is oddly fitting.

Loki will wait and see if this time Thor will finally have him thrown out for assaulting the King of Asgard.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeahhhhh so, you see, Thor thinks he has kinky, exciting sexy times with his brother and look he even has a "safeword" - summon hammer at any time to escape bonds. We know already what Loki thinks. 
> 
> *sigh* these two


End file.
